


Through the Sleepless Night.

by Septima_Severina



Series: Nocturne [1]
Category: Assassin's Creed
Genre: Cafe Theatre, Cuddling & Snuggling, Dreams and Nightmares, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Freeform, Happy Ending, Lullabies, Reader-Insert, Self-Insert
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-12
Updated: 2015-10-12
Packaged: 2018-04-26 02:13:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,480
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4986094
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Septima_Severina/pseuds/Septima_Severina
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>You had a nightmare and waking up in the middle of the night. You didn’t expect someone to solace or comfort you – because you just want to win it by yourself. But, you were in relationship with Arno – the Mr.Know-it-all – he always found that you were in troubles.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Through the Sleepless Night.

**Author's Note:**

> FYI: I have corrected all of the mistakes already. Thank you to the lovely anon on correcting them for me! And if there are any mistakes have left, please feel free to let me know! :)

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

 

 _Suggestive Listening:_  [Sleepless Night by Norah Jones](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fpVtTC6b3F8). 

 

 

 

_“You could have saved us….”_

 

Faces were floating in (Y/N)’s dream – no – they were haunting her and repeated all those words again and again.

 

She felt like she was going to be suffocated, as those faces drowned in the darkness or were chopped by guillotine. She screamed loudly along their screams. She didn’t even know that her voice was loud enough to wake the man beside her. He startled and suddenly snatched a knife from a pillow.

 

Arno looked around the dimmed room, realising that the voice came from (Y/N). She still wriggled and cried, as if she had been tormented. He laid his knife at the nightstand before shaking her heavily;

 

“(Y/N)! (Y/N)!”

 

Her arms were swinging in the air to remove Arno’s hand. He had to grab her shoulder and her upper arms even tighter. A second later, she stopped resisting – gasping and opening her eyes.

 

She breathed rapidly. First thing she saw was her lover’s face – not those haunted faces. She blinked before looked at him.

 

“Is there a nightmare,  _mon amour_?” He said. His expression was obviously anxious. His grips on her arms were loosening.

 

“Sort of,” She groaned as she sat up. “But it’s alright, go back to sleep,  _mon chéri_.”

 

She smiled to him and tried hard to gather herself in the line. He didn’t believe her;

 

“Look at your face. It’s so pale. I don’t think you’re alright.”

 

“Of course, why doesn’t someone – who is alright – just can’t have a pale face?” She said smoothly.

 

“A pale face and….” He grabbed her hands, “the cold hands like you have been dipping in a frozen pond?”

 

“I’m just alright, Monsieur Dorian.”

 

“No, you aren’t, Madame Dorian.”

 

“Not yet, I’m still Mademoiselle (Y/L/N).”

 

(Y/N) raised her chin up and faked a smile before slipping out of the bed. As she saw his expression – like he was in the great pain, because she indicated that they hadn’t wedded each other yet – she sighed a little and leaned to kiss his nose lightly.

 

“I will find something warm at the kitchen. Don’t worry, Arno.”

 

She put on a long robe, and walked out of the bedroom to the kitchen of Café Theatre. No one was there but it wasn’t too dark at all.

 

Fortunately, the fire in the stove hadn’t died out yet. She set the kettle with water and waited for it to boil. She knew too well that a warm drink wouldn’t help her much.

 

Though she had brought a cup of warm drink with her while walking through the garden, it seemed like her heart had sunk into a river without bottom. The breeze and the moonlight were cold, as if winter had arrived already.

 

That was because of those faces she saw in her dream. Some she did recognise, some she didn’t. But, the worst were her brothers, sisters and friends’ faces. Most of them were protestors – against Robespierre – so, they were unfortunately murdered or guillotined.  

 

She was already in the Brotherhood when the Reign of Terrors began. She knew all of Robespierre and the Templars’ plan – she could have sent them messages – but she didn’t.

 

Also she was the witness to some of the execution, too.

 

She sighed heavily as she sat on the edge of the square – which was located at the centre of the garden – The more she thought, the more she felt that the night breeze was thousands of blades piercing along her bare skins.

 

It made her cried silently, burying her face to her hands. She realised the truth of what she sometimes heard: it was the living who suffered, not the dead.

 

(Y/N) began sobbing harder. She didn’t even know that someone was approaching her, not until a voice rang to her ear:

 

“You are the bad liar, don’t you know,  _mon amour_?”

 

She turned around; Arno was there – in his night shirt and pants. His face was solemn, while he sat beside her.

 

“Oh, am I?” She pretended to be surprise.

 

“Stop it, (Y/N).” He sighed, “You think you can deceive me, but actually – you can’t.”

 

“And what am I supposing to do?”

 

“You have to tell me.”

 

“No,” She refused, “I don’t want to cause any trouble to you. They’re just tiny little things.”

 

“Don’t you even think that your ‘tiny little things’ may matter to me?”

 

Arno grabbed her hands, looking into her eyes earnestly.

 

“And don’t you see, if they are tiny little things like you said, why are you crying right now?”

 

“It was just dust.” She lied, trying to smile again. But finally, she absolutely cried her eyes out.

 

“I’m-I’m so sorry Arno.” She sobbed.

 

“No need to be sorry, (Y/N). Just tell me about the things that caused you so much trouble tonight.”

 

He pulled her head against his shoulder, and comforted her by stroking his hand along her back.

 

“I could have saved them,” She began, “All of them or some of them.”

 

“What do you mean ‘them’?”

 

“My friends…my relatives… all of them – dead.” (Y/N) tried to control her voice; it was still shaking though – so were her hands. “That was because of my faults! I should have sent them messages, to warn them about the executions!”

 

Arno let her cried and spoke her mind – about the Reign of Terrors and the deaths of her friends – for a couple minutes, for her to feel better, before he said again;

 

“You know,  _ma Cheri_ , sometimes you just can’t play the role as if you were a god – or someone who has the authority like that. No, I should say that no humans can determine others’ fates. So, it’s totally not your fault.”

 

“But how can we judge that it wasn’t my fault?” She asked.

 

“It’s really difficult to tell, I know.” He smiled a little. “During the chaos, you couldn’t save them, but your works in that time have saved most of the people in France from the guillotine.”

 

(Y/N) nodded. After listening to Arno’s words, she wiped her eyes.

 

Arno smiled at her. “Let’s get back to bed.”

 

He pulled her up and led her to their bedroom. He took the cup from her hand and held her as they sat on the edge of the bed. Her face was still filled with sorrow.

 

“(Y/N)?” Arno called her.

 

“Sorry, Arno. I think, tonight, I can’t sleep anymore.”

 

“Why?”

 

“If I close my eyes, those faces surely will appear in my dream again.” She said, trying not to cry again by folding her lips.

 

“Just sleep,  _mon amour_.”

 

He cut her off and lay down with her. Also he took her arms to cross around his chest, and her head on his arm.

 

“You have me here.” He gently stroked her cheek, “I know how it feels like, when you just can’t save people you love.”

 

(Y/N) looked into his eyes again. She could feel that all of his feelings and his everything were shown in there. She sighed before kissing him.

 

“ _Bonne nuit_ , then.”

 

She closed her eyes, but a few seconds later, she could hear a tune from his lips. She thought the song was sounded so familiar. She suddenly realised that he was singing the revolutionary song – La Marseillaise.

 

“Why the heck are you singing this song?”

 

She opened her eyes again and gazed at him sharply, to make him stop. But he was still singing the Anthem with that smug face.

 

“Oh, you’re so brutal.”

 

“There’s no ordinary man singing the revolutionary song for his lover to sleep,  _un idiot_!”

 

“There, there,  _Ma Cheri_.” He stroked her hairs, “Don’t you want to laugh right now, do you.”

 

“Surely, I do.” She frowned, “But not with this way, Arno, I’m not amused.”

 

“My apologies, I’m not going to do it again.”

 

(Y/N) sighed heavily as he stared at her, liked a puppy stared at his mistress to ask something from her. Since her lover was just the man with a ton of humours, she couldn’t say anything further.  

 

“I’m going to sleep now, there’re a plenty of work to do tomorrow.”

 

She closed her eyes again. But this time, Arno did sing the revolutionary song no more. He just hummed the beautiful tune that she had never heard since she was around eleven or twelve years old. It was a lullaby, and his voice was just as gentle as feathers.

 

She couldn’t help but moved closer to him. Also he held her tight and kept singing, until her breath was even – he stopped singing and took a blanket up for both of them.

 

“ _Bonne Nuit, fais de beaux rêves_.”

 

Arno kissed her forehead. If his eyes didn’t trick him, he saw (Y/N) smiling – as her eyes were still closed.

 

“ _Vilain Chaton._ ”

 

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

**Author's Note:**

> I have posted them on Arno Dorian Imagine Blog at Tumblr. And then, I realise that I have an account on AO3 too. So, I decide to post them here for people who love Arno but don't on tumblr, but on AO3 instead. :)
> 
> And FYI. Requests are OPENED. You could send me a request via either AO3 or Tumblr, and I would certainly write them for you! :D


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